You're a Lunatic
by moreorlesme
Summary: An image of Darren playing air-piano and actually hearing the music popped into my head the other day.  This is the result.  RPF.
1. You're a Lunatic

_Bam, bam, bam._ Chris palmed at the trailer door before unceremoniously throwing it open with a thud.

"Darren, what the he-"

"Oh, good, you're here," Darren started, interrupting Chris. "I'm stuck."

"What you are is twenty minutes late. Ryan is livid."

"I'm almost done. I just can't figure out the bridge. Here, listen," he reached out his hands and played at the tabletop in front of him.

"Um, crazy man?" Chris stared down at him, eyes closed, head cocked in concentration. "Only you can hear that music."

"Huh?" Darren looked up at him, face reddening. "Oh, yeah. My keyboard died," he shrugged. "Sad."

"We'll stop by the furniture store later and get you a new one."

Darren poked at Chris's ribs and shook his head. "I already ordered a new one, smartypants. With actual keys and everything."

"What a concept," Chris smirked back.

"Come with me to pick it up? I could really use a fresh ear on this new one. Something's a little off with it."

"Something's a little off with you." He kicked at Darren's foot playfully. "And it's going to be your head if you don't get your butt to set."

"'K, fine," he huffed, pushing back his chair. "Twenty minutes? Really?" He reached for his phone and checked the time. "Shit."

"A new personal best, Captain Punctuality. I told you to start setting your clocks ahead."

"I did. Thirty minutes." He held his wrist for Chris to see his watch.

"So, that makes you nearly an hour late?"

"Something like that." He shook his head. "I blame the music, man. It sucks me in. Grabs hold. Takes me prisoner. Then it refuses to cooperate. Damn song."

"You'll figure it out. And I'd love to help, but you know that's not really my thing. I'm just the singer. I don't get a fancy slash."

Darren looked at him, confused.

"You know," Chris continued, "singer _slash_ songwriter. Though I've tried. I mean, I can hold my own with the cheesy high school musical lyrics. But anything beyond that and I'm out of my league."

"Whatever, dude. You've got skills. I've read your stuff. It's really good. Hey! We should write something together." Darren bounced at the idea.

"We may have to. As a second career, I mean, once Ryan fires our asses for dereliction of duty. Now c'mon." Chris grabbed at Darren's sleeve and pulled him in the direction of the door. 

* * *

><p>"Well, that wasn't as bad as I expected." Darren shrugged at Chris as they made their way back toward their trailers.<p>

"Because you charmed him to within an inch of his life. Jesus, Darren, how do you do that?"

"Um, it's a gift?" he asked, palms up, an innocent smile playing at his mouth.

"Mmhm." Chris rolled his eyes. "Secret evil power, more like."

"You're just jealous because I have the force." Darren jumped ahead a few paces and swung his imaginary lightsaber, complete with sound effects.

"Ok, young Skywalker. Enough of that. Put that thing away before you hurt yourself."

"Whatever, Han. You and Chewy interested in dinner? My treat, if you promise to listen to my song."

"Dinner would be good. But only if there are vegetables involved. The last time you offered me dinner it involved a giant meat lovers pizza. And those are not ok, Darren."

"So you've said. You pick this time. Just, please God, not tofu." Darren wrinkled his nose.

"Deal. Follow me home? Then we can take your car," he suggested, backing towards his trailer.

"Sure. Give me five?"

"So, fifteen?"

Darren pulled a face, then turned in the direction of his own trailer. "Make it twenty," he shouted over his shoulder. 

* * *

><p>Forty minutes later, Chris helped himself to Darren's trailer. "What in God's name are you doing in here?" He looked around at the sheet music strewn everywhere.<p>

"I had a thought."

"Heaven help us all," Chris mumbled, looking skyward.

"I heard that." Darren attempted to look hurt but couldn't hide his grin. "It's in the wrong key. That's why it feels off. If I start it lower, then I can change it at the bridge. It'll totally work!"

"The uncooperative song?"

"Yep."

"Fixed, just like that?"

"Yep."

"Just with a key change?"

"Yep."

"And how long have you been fighting with it?"

"Oh, man. Days? A week, maybe. I've written five or six different choruses. Nothing felt right. But now?" he clapped his hands triumphantly, "Victory is mine!"

Chris quirked an eyebrow and shook his head. "You're a lunatic."

"Thank you." Darren bowed in acceptance.

"You're welcome. Now can we please go? I'm starving."

"Of course. I forgot – I'm feeding a growing boy." 

* * *

><p>"How about ice cream for dinner?"<p>

"Vegetable ice cream? Is this a trick?" Darren asked suspiciously.

"No, not vegetable ice cream," Chris said, climbing into Darren's car and clicking his seatbelt. "Ice cream, ice cream. You know - rocky road and cookie dough and _Bing!_ cherry vanilla ."

"You can get 'em with jimmies, or nuts, or whipped cream."

"Oh, my God, did you just quote 'Friends' back at me?"

"I did indeed, sir. And you are welcome."

Chris let out a laugh. "It's like we share a brain sometimes, I swear. So, ice cream?"

"Your wish, my friend," Darren said, starting the car. "Though I feel a little like I'm corrupting you. Junk food isn't really your thing."

"Things change." He shrugged dismissively.

Darren made a disapproving clucking sound as he slipped the car into drive. "You're up to something, Colfer."

"Moi?" Chris batted his eyelashes in Darren's general direction.

"Spill it."

"I need a favor before we go."

"I knew it!"

"You and the triumphant proclamations today. Seriously."

"Dude, you're about to ask me a favor," he said, returning the car to park. "Is now really a good time to sass me?"

"Ok, good point. I'm sorry, Darren. Wonderful, talented, perfect, curly Darren." He batted his eyelashes a few times more for good measure.

"Better. Now out with it."

"Can you come in and help me move something?"

"That totally depends. It's not a dead mouse again, is it? Because I told you the last time I'm not doing that again, no matter how much you pout at me."

"No. No rodents this time. It's my Grampy's recliner." There were hints of sadness in his voice.

"Your Grampy's recliner?" Darren asked gently.

"Yeah. Their house finally sold, and Mom promised me I could have it. It got delivered last week. The guys just set it down in the middle of my living room."

"And you want it not in the middle of your living room?"

"Something like that. Please?"

"You just love me 'cause I'm burly, don't you?"

Chris's laughter filled the car and he reached over and squeezed Darren's bicep. "That's exactly it, Darren. You figured me out. Now, come on. I'll owe you one." 

* * *

><p>While Chris debated the ideal spot for the chair, Darren surveyed the room. It was not how he remembered it.<p>

"Dude, did a junk store throw up in here?" he asked, turning in a slow circle.

"Don't even start."

"Seriously, man, what the hell? Last time I was here this place was spotless. I mean, I was afraid to even sit down and I – hey! Are those my lucky socks?" Darren reached for the pair of purple and pink striped socks that lay folded on the coffee table. "I've been looking for these! I thought my brother stole them. Damn, I should not have sent him that text. Unjustified ass chewing." Darren shook his head.

"You left those in my trailer about a month ago. I thought I'd wash them and bring them back to you."

"You washed them? Chris! They were my lucky socks!"

"And now they're your lucky, clean socks. Deal."

Darren pouted a little as he eyed the rest of the mess. Coats, and more scarves than he saw during four years of Michigan winters, abandoned scripts, assorted mail. This place looked more like his house than Chris's.

"Chris?"

"Hm?" He still couldn't decide just where to put Grampy's chair.

"Did your cleaning lady quit or something?"

"I fired her. She ate my chocolate."

"She..? What?"

"It's not like that. I made Hannah an Easter basket. It got pillaged. I'll tolerate a lot of things, believe me, but no one messes with my baby sister. Or, you know, her chocolate."

"Ah."

"So I bought her a ukulele instead," he said matter-of-factly, shrugging.

"You replaced chocolate with a ukulele. Obviously."

"Yep. You know what a crush she has on Mark. Last time I was home, she said she wanted to learn how to play so they could sing together. And she's too teeny for a real guitar. So, ukulele."

"The part of your brain that we don't share works in a very strange way."

"You don't know the half of it."

"I'm not sure I want to."

"How about here? For the chair, I mean."

"Looks perfect. Let's do this."

Together, they moved the chair into place. Chris stepped back to survey the positioning. "Much better. Now, about that ice cream." 

* * *

><p>"Mint chocolate. No, pistachio. No, no black cherry. Ooooooh, pralines and cream?"<p>

"Holy God, what have I done?" Darren was bouncing around in front of him, back and forth from one end of the case to the other. "I'm so sorry," Chris mouthed to the man behind the counter.

"Happens all the time," the man retorted. "Though usually with kids half his size."

Chris smiled knowingly in response, and moved to corral Darren to the far end of the shop.

"I'm thinking this wasn't such a great idea. You plus this many options plus sugar after dark? You won't sleep tonight."

"Psh," Darren waved a dismissive hand. "You know I don't really sleep anyway."

"Because you eat crap and over-commit yourself," Chris said, before he could stop himself.

"Um, ok, Mom."

"It's the truth and you know it."

"It is. But what if I say no and miss something really good?"

"What if you say no and find deeper levels of good in what you're already doing?"

"And now you're Oprah. Who's next? The Dalai Lama? Seriously, dude." Darren put a hand on Chris's shoulder. "You're like a forty-year-old trapped in the body of a twenty-something, aren't you?"

"My whole life."

"I bet you were the most intense seven-year-old on the planet."

"How'd you guess?"

"Wild stab in the dark."

"Right."

"Tell you what. We'll share. Whatever you want."

Chris stepped up the counter to order. "I'll have one scoop of the pistachio and one of the pralines and cream. And two spoons."

"Yes!" Darren hissed behind him. "This brain sharing thing is really handy sometimes." 

* * *

><p>"Ohmygodiloveicecream," Darren mumbled, his mouth full.<p>

"No kidding." Chris looked over at the empty bowl, and his stomach rumbled. "Note to self – never attempt to share food with Darren when actually hungry."

Darren grinned at him sheepishly as he raised the last spoonful to his mouth. "Here, man," he said, angling the spoon toward Chris.

"No, no. That's quite all right." Chris held his hands up in protest. "You finish it. You'll burn off the calories faster than I will anyway."

"Yeah. All that over-committing I do." He shot Chris a look.

"I'm beginning to wonder if it's just a defense mechanism. You know, a cover. For all your insanity."

Darren reached down his left hand and a buzz filled the car as his seat began reclining. "What? I figure if we're going to have a therapy session I may as well be lying down."

"Sorry," Chris said, face reddening. "My mouth moves faster than my brain sometimes. I forget that you're not used to me yet."

"I'm used to you," he said, sitting back up. "It's kinda great, actually. You say what you mean. I never have to guess with you. It's comforting, in a sometimes terrifying sort of way."

"Thanks?"

"Yep."

They were silent for a tense moment, each seemingly lost in thought.

"You'd never date me, would you?"

Chris looked at him blankly.

"I mean, if, you know. I didn't have a thing for the ladies." Darren waggled his eyebrows at Chris to make him laugh.

Chris shook his head. "No way on God's green earth."

"Way to give it some thought, there, Colfer. Thanks." He pulled a pouty face and gave his best attempt at puppy eyes.

"You'd wear me out."

Darren threw his head back with laughter.

"Not what I meant, pervert. Though you're probably right about that too." Chris shuddered at the thought. "If the kissing is any indication."

"Wha?" Darren gave him an incredulous look.

"You kiss like a wild man."

"Hey! I am an excellent kisser. I have letters of recommendation and everything."

"Mmhm."

"Does that mean I shouldn't hold my breath waiting for yours?"

"To whom it may concern," Chris deadpanned, "Beware the stubble. And the tongue with a mind of its own." Chris arched his eyebrow. "Consider yourself warned. Godspeed. Christopher."

"You're hilarious."

"Yep."

"And I apologized about the tongue. Like twelve times. I just… got carried away. And dude, I shaved twice that morning."

Chris rubbed his chin absently, remembering how red it was when they finally wrapped the scene.

"It turned out great, though. The scene, I mean. Damn. You gotta admit, we make a hot couple."

Chris nodded. "We do, it's true. But how could we not? I mean, look at us."

"Right?" Darren enthused, giving Chris a once-over. "We are pretty, pretty people."

"I'd fangirl us."

"Chris Criss forever!"

"Oh, my God. Chris Criss. Still cracks me up. Though it may actually be the least offensive couple name ever."

"God bless the Klaineiac who came up with that one."

Chris snorted with laughter, and made a dramatic sweeping gesture. "God bless all the Klaineiacs."

"You're fun on sugar," Darren teased, leaning over to bump Chris's shoulder with his own.

"What are you saying? I'm fun all the time." He bumped Darren back in reply.

"You are."

"You're fun too. I like spending time with you."

"Thanks."

"We should probably go, though. I have a 6 a.m. call tomorrow."

"Ugh, me too. Whoever makes the schedule is a mean, horrible person."

"Word."

Darren started the car and headed in the direction of Chris's house.


	2. I Love it Here

"Morning, Sunshine."

Chris looked up from his phone to find Darren sitting on his trailer steps.

"What on earth?"

"Breakfast. To make up for eating all your dinner last night." Darren held up a coffee and a styrofoam box. "Egg white omelet. Your favorite."

"You're my favorite."

Darren beamed. "Thanks."

"I'm impressed," Chris said, reaching for the coffee. "Not only are you here early, but you managed errands first."

"I am a man of many talents, thank you."

"You're welcome. Come in?" Chris tilted his head in the direction of his trailer. "We can eat, then you can walk me to hair and makeup."

"Sounds like a plan." He moved so Chris could unlock the door. "So, you ready for today?" Their first scene involved Kurt crying through nearly all of it.

"Ugh. I never feel ready."

"Want to run it through once? Just us. Without the tears."

"Ok," Chris shrugged. "As long as you don't mind me chewing." He rummaged in his bag for the script. "Don't mind me. Go ahead and start. I know you know it."

Darren nodded. "I do. Every painful word." He reached for his coffee and took a long swallow before diving in.

They breezed through it quick enough, an eight-minute scene reduced to two and a half, thanks to the absence of emotions. They'd simply acknowledged the necessary pauses with dismissive waves of their hands.

"It's not so bad, when you take out the sobbing."

"Still awful, though. God, I cringe every time I see Brad's name on a script. He may as well title every episode 'And Then Kurt Cries'," Chris said, rolling his eyes.

"Pretty much. They really run you through the wringer, don't they?"

"Feels that way sometimes. Though they make up for it by letting me say ridiculous, bitchy things and sing fabulous songs. So it evens out, I guess."

"Still, dude. I don't know how you do it, take after take. And then you breeze out of there like nothing. All I have to do is watch you act and I feel like I should be on suicide watch for seventy-two hours afterward."

"Meh. It's just what I do. I try not to think of it as anything more than a job. And I learned a long time ago never to connect the real me to the on-screen emotion. That's when it gets ugly. Even still, it's draining."

"Yeah. Me, on the other hand. I can't figure out how to disconnect the two." He shrugged. "S'why I tend to get so carried away sometimes."

"So…?" Chris looked at him knowingly.

"Except that. That was all Blaine. Horny little teenaged bastard."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He glanced up at the clock. "Crap. We gotta go. Bring the food, I'm still hungry."

"You got it." He gathered their things and they headed for the door.

* * *

><p>Their morning passed with merciful smoothness. The director had been specific and focused, and they had nailed their lines with each take. Still, each was grateful when a wrap was called and they were sent off to lunch.<p>

Chris had disappeared quickly, as he tended to do after emotionally demanding scenes, so Darren wandered over to the craft services line alone. He filled his to-go box with more than was strictly necessary, knowing full well it would serve as his dinner too.

He found an empty classroom on set and dropped to sit cross-legged on the floor. It was quiet there, far away from the energy of the crew and the chaos of his trailer. He ate in silence, mentally reviewing the afternoon's scene. They were shooting a song, a riotous number. His morning had been filled with tears and hurtful words and his afternoon would be filled with pivot turns and soaring harmonies.

"My life is fucking bizarre," he mumbled, shaking his head.

"No kidding." He startled at the sound of Chris's voice.

"Where'd you come from?" He looked up at Chris, arms crossed, leaning against the doorjamb.

"Miss Pillsbury's office. It's my happy place. You should see some of the prop pamphlets in there. Pure genius."

"Yeah?" He patted the ground next to him and Chris crossed the room to sit.

"Oh, my word, how Jayma doesn't laugh through every scene I'll never know. And now she writes new ones and hides them for me, since I told her that I help myself to her office occasionally."

"That sounds fun."

"They're awesome. I totally snorted Diet Coke through my nose once. That was not awesome, though Jayma was especially proud of herself when I told her about it."

"Nice. I'll have to duck in some time and check them out. Hey, you ok?" he asked, as Chris let out a long sigh.

"Me? Yeah. I'm fine. Just… this morning was intense."

Darren reached to place a hand on Chris's arm. "Yeah. I'm really sorry. And the Blaine who permanently lives in my head says he's sorry too."

"One of you has nothing to be sorry about. And the other one," Chris quirked an eyebrow, "well, the other one deserves a timeout."

"Unsportsmanlike behavior."

"Is that an actual thing?"

"UnWarblerlike behavior. How about that?" Darren grinned over at him and Chris nodded in approval.

"Pavarotti would certainly be appalled."

"He would. You were amazing, by the way. Earlier. Broke my heart a little."

"I wondered why you were sitting in here all alone. It's not exactly your milieu."

"Guess I needed a minute. Plus, I knew you were around here somewhere. Figured I'd stay close," he shrugged. "Emotional support, or whatever."

"Well, thanks. For the whatever." Chris checked his watch, then startled when his stomach growled loudly. "Think there's still food?"

"There's always food. One of the many reasons I love it here." He shoved another forkful into his mouth and winked at Chris. "Look," he said, mouth full, "veggies!"

"I'm so proud. Though your table manners could use some work. Neanderthal."

"I'm sitting on the floor," he chewed. "No manners required."

"Have I ever mentioned that you're a lunatic?"

"Once or twice." Darren grinned over at him, and Chris shoved at his shoulder playfully.

"Third time's a charm, then. Lunatic." Chris's stomach growled again, and he stood and edged toward the door.

"Whatever. You love me." Darren eyed him as he crossed the room.

"Against my better judgment."

Darren clutched at his heart. "Your words, man. They hurt."

Chris rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stifle the grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. He paused in the doorway. "So I'll see you later?"

"Yeah. I'll be around."

Chris smiled. "You're always around."

"Seems that way, doesn't it?"

Chris nodded. "One of the many reasons I love it here."


End file.
